Extra: High Meadow.

A Springtime Memory was called-for at HEADS OR TAILS. Nothing grabbed me at first and then it all surged back; a memory that has lain dormant for many decades. So I say 'Thanks for the Memory'!

HIGH MEADOW.

As we walked down the hill from Farley,

Past the gates of Alton Towers,

We saw the hedgerows pricked out 

With the first of the Springtime flowers.

Betty and I were schoolgirls,

In our skirts of navy-blue,

White shirts, green ties and jumpers,

Plus thick lisle stockings too.

We were not given to wildness,

We were, in fact,  quite staid,

But we had paid no attention

To the difference that Springtime made.

The greens were suddenly vibrant,

The soil had a richer smell,

The birds were frantically nesting,

And, suddenly, strange to tell.....

Two schoolgirls became enchanted,

Like nymphs from some ancient tale,

Overcome by the magical freshness,

After winter had grown stale.

We came to a farm-gate, open, 

Inviting us to step through,

And, without a word, we did so,

Into a world brand new.

Laughing we stripped off stockings, 

Untied constricting ties,

Tossed those symbols of winter

Toward the shimmering skies.

The meadow seemed elevated,

Above the pastures around.

There was something sacred about it.

Yes, this was our sacred ground.

The grass was damp from a shower,

Our feet were soon washed clean,

Freshened and blessed with renewal,

Young feet in a sea of green.

And we danced to an inward rhythm,

We danced to an unheard song,

We shouted aloud to our music

As we galloped and pranced along.

And we laughed like two girls demented,

Well, maybe we were, in a way.

But, oh, what a glorious madness

Entered our souls that day!

Don't tell me you know about Springtime,

You really don't, you know.

Only Betty and I knew Springtime,

In a meadow long ago.